Lullaby
by AlexisVega
Summary: He's a quirky, cherished a la mode; the prodigious cantante. She's a twisted, perky trainee; his candid connoisseur ... Things couldn't get anymore interesting as Ji Yong and Jewel strike an unusual friendship.


He tossed and turned yet again, having done just that for the past few hours, but sleep simply refused to embrace him. None of the celebrated lullabies or lofty instrumentals could help Ji Yong in any way. Even the sheep appeared to have been bored now, having jumped the same fence for a lengthy stretch of unending hours. More so, there was nothing on the internet of substantial use that he hadn't already tried.

To make matters worse, he had even run out of bedtime stories! Of course, the humbling fact that he had read Peter Pan and Madeline in the first place was something that he was very much inclined to keep in the hush hush.

Having failed on all else, Ji Yong decided to prop himself up instead to stare into the dark till he lost track of time for another immeasurable stretch, all the while weighing the option whether he should just lay down and continue with his tossing and such; who knows, he might tumble down from the bed and knock himself to sleep …?

Having acknowledged the absurdity of this proposed thought, he still decided to give it a go. He shut his eyes in a recurrent wave of hope but it merely happened to fuel in a flurry of unanswered questions pertaining to the endless list of his untouched songs, unattended interviews and an encompassing list of random incomplete lyrics.

Incapable of bagging even a meagre minute of rest amidst these nudging vexations, Ji Yong threw himself out of bed and his agitation. Hopefully.

Switching on a light out in the corridor that lit his vacant abode in a faint mellow glow, he swept a weary glance around.

At five past two in the night, he started to saunter about the rooms purposelessly in the undeniable likes of a walking dead. The thought left him smiling, which only widened upon reminiscing the cherished time when Gaho used to serve as a faithful company for him during such sleepless nights back then.

He carried his unbelievably weary self to the balcony now; a cool wind was rustling and the clouds were rumbling in the distance. As he uninterestedly watched the blinking city lights and oblivious lives down below, he couldn't help but conclude how this listless demeanour had become a habit now.

Propping himself up on the metal railing – something he had been reprimanded for a lot many times than he could care to recall – Ji Yong took his cell phone out and started to glide through the call logs to check up on Taeyang and the others with a regretful resolve that he should have listened to everybody and stayed with them.

To his profound surprise, an earnest, excited female voice answered the phone. And it didn't stop at that, the said girl was rambling a string of unintelligible words that marginally marked even the lingering strains of sense into his conscience.

"Just five minutes," announced the girl, thrill dabbed all over the sprightly sound of her voice. Her ecstasy easily surpassed the likes of any liveliness and excitement that he had ever encountered in someone – and frankly, he met a lot many people. But strange as it all was - pertaining to this very queer fact – the girl appeared somewhat familiar to him. "What do you make of that? It took me just five minutes to climb up. And I even finished the entire pie. Within seconds. Muuuaaaahahahahahah! Can you top that? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

"I can try … ?" he suggested after a failed attempt to piece together the unprecedented events. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Apparently, the girl on the other end had been expecting someone else too. "Who're you?" her tone was suddenly flat, lined thickly with suspicion.

Ji Yong turned to stare down at his I-phone, clutched firmly in his right hand.

"Jewel?" he breathed, dubiety crossing his confused features. The why and the how of it was all beyond his comprehension.

"Sh-Should I know you?" There was a definite ring of panic in her voice.

"Seriously?" he forged a scoff. "You act like you're all about me and here I learn you don't even have my number added to your contacts!?"

"And why would I be doing that? Who do you think you are, you punk!?" she snapped in a raspy, biting tone, quite unlike her usual polite touch.

He gave a roll of his eyes. "This punk is G-Dragon."

"Oh yeah? And I am Johnny Depp."

"I figured you'd say something like that. But Johnny Depp? Really? That isn't anywhere near believing. Have you heard yourself? Or how you sound?"

His little speech was answered by still silence from the other end, kindling him with a question whether she had flung her phone away to scream in a secluded corner. And if she did indeed do that, it wouldn't have come as the least bit of surprise to him. "You there?" he asked the still silence.

"… You're G-Dragon …" she whispered after a good stretch of silenced seconds.

"What gave me away?" he whispered back with the same discreetness.

She started with a soft, shaky snigger. "You don't sound like a punk at all. I was just messing around."

"I am sure you were."

"Its two in the morning."

"You have to be somewhere?"

"No." He could hear her giggle. "I mean, you call people this late? … Early? And why are you all cranky?"

"I am in a bit of a turmoil."

"Isn't everyone?"

"Philosophy. Just what I need."

"But still … why … ho … You called _me_!?"

"Don't get in a frenzy. I was going to call Taeyang."

"And how does Taeyang end up as Jewel?"

"Its Trainee girl actually."

"Trainee girl?" she raged in disbelief, just as he had expected she would. "After all this time, and you still call me Trainee girl?"

"You didn't even add me as a contact. How about that?"

"FYI," she picked a lofty tone to answer; probably had her forefinger raised too. "My phone was reformatted."

"Again?"

"Sadly, yes. I lost all my contacts. And couldn't recall your number."

"You are surrounded by fifty people in that building. Could have asked anyone."

"FYI again, I didn't wish to be seen as that clingy, hyper-active, out of control fan who obsesses over you."

"I would say you're that clingy, hyper-active, out of control fan who obsesses over me, but I won't."

"You just said it."

"That is what we punks do."

She muttered some unintelligible words and probably wailed too.

"Look," he grinned. "I would love to sit here and chat. But I have to go."

"Oh. Ok. Sure. Bye!"

He bid farewell and cut the call. But just when he was about to place his phone in the pocket of his shirt, the Trainee girl called back.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Hi!"

"Hi?"

"I got your number."

His hand lifted to hit his forehead. "Congratulations!" He let the sarcasm flow free.

"Thank you. Now change my name."

"Why?"

"Trainee girl won't do. Can I suggest?"

"No."

"How about Jewel the Great."

"No."

"Jewel the Awesome!"

"No."

"The Punk Goddess. I like the sound of that."

"I am pretty sure that's a band somewhere."

"How about the Encompassing Enchantress?"

"I have the perfect person who can suggest the perfect name for you."

"Who?"

"Me!"

"Nah! You're not creative. I mean, Trainee girl? Seriously? What's fun about that? Everybody knows I am a trainee. And I am a girl."

He sighed. "Do we really have to do this? Now?"

"But the name I gave you, now _that_ is creative."

"What? Singer boy?"

"No reason."

" … No reason? That is my name?"

"Yep. My phone tells me – No reason calling."

To his utter disbelief, he was actually laughing. "No reason calling? You're unbelievable."

She was definitely grinning. "Now change my name."

"To what?"

"The Sensational Singer."

"Not buying it."

"The Wicked Wench. Wait! That would be your hyped girlfriend. How about-"

"Johnny Depp?" he suggested as though he was the paragon of innocence.

And there it was - the aggravated mumbling and wailing. "Oppa?"

"Yes?"

"You said you had to go."

"Yes."

"Where did you have to go?"

"I just didn't want to talk to you."

"Hoo Haaye."

It was amusing, steering her toward her childish moments of practically harmless fury which usually ended with her puffing her cheeks out like a chipmunk.

"Fine," she fumed. "I won't trouble you. Bye!"

She was gone by the time he could even open his mouth to say goodbye, leaving him smiling all by his lonesome. However, she called back the next second.

"I forgot something," she told him in an urgent note.

"What?"

"You're sitting on the railing, aren't you?" Her voice was etched with concern, one so mild that it could have been easily overheard if one wasn't actually pegging for it.

"No," he stumbled upon a reply. And a lie at that.

"Yes, you are."

"How can you possibly know that?" Each word betrayed elevated curiousity.

"You do that. When you're thinking. Or when you don't feel right."

"Do I?" he asked more to himself, profoundly claimed by the element of surprise at such an elementary observation on her part.

"Yep. So I started wondering. Tough song?"

He scoffed. "So you are counselling me now?"

"Is that it? A tough song?"

"No, not really."

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Sort of."

"Working on a song and it won't let you sleep?"

"I'll go with that."

"Did you read the fairytales?" she whispered in a hushed, secretive note.

"All there is," he rustled back, earning a loud gasp from the other end.

"This is serious, Oppa. If you can't sleep properly and it is hindering your writing … these might just be the symptoms of the zombie disease."

"The what now?"

"The zombie disease, Oppa! You won't actually turn into a zombie but all your songs would be zombie-like with all the "Gwaaaaah! Brains! Give me brainzzzzzz!" to the point that they can only be featured in Plants vs Zombies' third edition or in Warm Bodies' second part. If they're anything of the serious, scary sort, then Resident Evil might cut in a deal. But the main thing is, all the pop, rock and hip-hop songs will be owned by Justin Beaver if you stepped down at this crucial time. You can't do this to us, Oppa! That Beaver is practically a live action fully evolved Jigglypuff. You on the other end are an epitome of excellence, the paragon of perseverance."

"I am not giving you my car."

"I'm not saying any of this to earn your car – I won't mind if I do – But your songs really appeal to the soul."

"You don't even understand any of those."

"The music, Oppa. The music. It connected my naive clueless self right to what your words wanted to convey."

"You really need to cut short on those late night pies."

"I can't help it. I belong to the Homo noctorns, an elite species that is accustomed to wake up at night. We love apple pies."

"So you're a pie loving Vampire now?"

"I'm not a leech. My species is way cooler."

"Vampires _are_ cool. In the literal sense of the word."

"But Vampires drink blood."

"Don't you?"

"Hoo Haaye!"

"Hoo Haaye!" he voiced the same, snickering madly to the point of falling down from his beloved seat and barely managing to escape the fall.

"You just have to disagree with me on everything."

"Can't pass on a hobby."

"I'm starting to wish you fall off that railing."

"Careful what you wish for."

"You were going to fall," she stated with a tinge of amusement, "you were going to fall, weren't you?"

"Of course not. Unlike you, I am very well coordinated."

"And unlike you, I am … I am …" She seemed to be lost on words.

"A girl?" he grinned.

"No, not a girl."

"You are not a girl?"

"No. Yes! N … I mean something more than a girl. I am an honorable member of the Homo noctorn. Hah!"

"Who is high on sugar rush. Hah!"

"What sugar rush?"

"How many pies did you have tonight?"

"One."

"How many pies did you _eat_ tonight?"

"Two."

"Really?"

"Ok, three."

He didn't prod on and merely decided to wait for her to spill the beans as he saw the rumbling clouds etch nearer, bestowing a crisp feel to the cool breeze.

"Seven," she mumbled inaudibly.

"Seven?" He couldn't believe his ears. "You ate _seven_ pies? In one night?"

"Personal record," she stated proudly.

The night rumbled yet again to announce its unacknowledged presence, with a glowering streak of lightening striking through the dark embrace.

"Did you hear that?" she breathed, almost as though she was in awe of the weather she was beholding.

"Yep," he hummed as he got down from the railing. "You like the rain, right?"

"I love it!"

He headed inside his dim lit apartment and got himself a glass of ice cold water. She hadn't spoken for a good long minute, so he figured she was probably busy staring out the window up at the dark clouds, breathing in the damp, musk air. Perhaps her hand was outstretched too so she could welcome the soft splatters of the drizzling rain on her warm, pink palm.

He, on the other hand, hardly had any patience with nature and its unpredictable entities. Not that he was in absolute repulsion of the dampness in the air or the soggy soil, but he certainly wasn't attracted to any of it in the overwhelming way that she was.

In patient wait, Ji Yong put his I-phone on speaker and tossed it next to the fruit basket. Grabbing hold of an orange, he propped himself on the couch. With his head resting on the seat to face the ceiling, and his legs dangling off the back of the couch, he started to toss the orange in the air.

"Oppa?" Jewel's earnest voice exclaimed just as he had caught the orange after the third toss.

"Hn?"

"Still here?"

"Where would I go?"

"Any luck with sleep?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh …" And she fell quiet again. All that could be heard were the faint sounds of scribbling and quick erasing on random intervals, something he didn't ascribe any right cause to: the scrawny trainee was prone to strange, silly things.

"Oppa!"

"Hm?"

"How is everybody?"

"Good."

"Everybody?"

"Everybody."

"All of them?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just making small talk."

"Since when do _you_ need to make small talk?"

"Do you like Kuroi?"

The falling fruit was cast an eye of oblivion as he found himself blinking blankly in response. Kuroi ... Kuroi Yami - wasn't she the trainee who Seungri insanely obsessed over day and night? "Why?" he wondered aloud, catching hold of the fruit just in time before it could land on his face.

"Do you or do you not?"

"Do I or do I not?"

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, do you like like Kuroi?"

"How do you like like somebody?"

"You know, the way I like your pretty girlfriend -"

"You don't."

"- and Seungri like like likes Kuroi -"

"A lot more than that, I believe."

"-So do you like like Kuroi?"

"I'll go with somewhere in the middle."

"Oki doki."

There was the sound of scribbling again, which – much to his confusion – was followed by another series of strange questions.

"Oppa!"

"Hm?"

"Did you ever consciously kill a wasp?"

Correction – series of the strangest questions.

"A wasp?" he repeated, drawing a blank on the purpose of her question.

"When was the last time you ate a two tier freshly fished anchovy pizza with pineapple cheese cream and jalapeno honey butter?"

"Never heard of such a thing."

"How many times have you sung 'Don't you worry child'?"

"That's not my song."

"When was the last time you told someone to go to hell?

"Don't remember."

"Do you despise apples?"

"Not really."

"Who's smarter, Mikey or Raph?"

"Uhhhh …"

"Ever believed in a UFO?"

"No."

"You see your grandchildren as musicians or athletes?"

"I have grandchildren?"

"Scientists it is. One last question - What do you mean when you say you want somebody to love?"

Ji Yong didn't bother catching the orange this time. With a brow arched high, in attempt to arrive on a decent answer, he absently ran a finger over the stubble on his chin, the forgotten orange left to roll down on the floor with dull thuds. "What kind of question is that?" he snickered softly.

"When you say somebody to love, what sort of love are you referring to?"

"I am not answering that," he ascertained as he grab hold of another orange and gave it a twirl between his fingers.

"Please please please."

"What are you doing?"

"Writing your suicide note."

He strained his neck to peer at his I-phone. "And a wasp, an apple, some weird pizza -"

"Don't forget the UFO."

" – and my grandchildren have something to do with it? I would love to see how you collect all of that in one note."

"Sure. But its not finished yet. You can see it when its done."

"Looking forward to it."

The two fell silent for a minute or so, engaged in their own with nothing but the rumbling of the clouds and the soft drizzle of the rain to be heard; until Ji Yong broke the silence.

"So other than this suicide note and your late night pie spree, what else did you do all day?"

"Training. Training. Got scolded by Se7en. Training. Training. Got in a row with Seungri. More training. Punished by Se7en – slipped a lot on lower notes today - some more training. Teddy helped patch up the fight with Seungri. Went home with Moira. Scolding from Nana. Slept for some time. Then Kain and I headed to this Karaoke place to finish off with Se7en's song for Friday. That place is amazing. You know, the owner's daughter there recently got married. So Kain and I sung the couple a cute, little duet. No charge. We went window shopping then. I showed him the kind of gown I would wear at my sister's wedding. Then I headed home. Practiced notes on my piano when Savvy reminded me it was Wednesday - we are testing the effects of different food materials on the human mind. And then you called. Accidentally. Then I called you back. I annoyed you, you annoyed me back. Then I called you back blah blah blah yada yada blah blah … Then I fell off the window and died."

Ji Yong laughed his heart out at the sudden, strange ending. "You should be writing your own suicide note," he said. He had halted his little game to listen intently, with his hands comfortably behind his head. And strangely, he had come to enjoy the little story.

"I leave that to you."

Ji Yong grinned up at the darkness, the gentle pitter-patter of the rain sounding its own, yet softly accentuating the chirpy girl's chatty voice while he just lay there, listening and smiling, and laughing.

The thought of sleep was certainly no longer entertained.


End file.
